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January 24, 2011
In a way, writing is my meditation. It is not calm or peaceful, and I do not empty my mind before I write. But it is about me, about searching the inner turmoil of my soul, about smoothing out my wrinkles and slowly, gradually, becoming a whole person. Sometimes it is even about other people, about finding where I fit in this strange world around us.

I want to be special. I want to be powerful. I want to have my dreams come true, even the ones about dragons and fairies and magic. Why can't the world work that way?